


Masyaf's Cold War

by Lux (mmagpie)



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, F/M, Jealousy, One Shot, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 08:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11505780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmagpie/pseuds/Lux
Summary: Masyaf's cold war, warms up.





	Masyaf's Cold War

**Author's Note:**

> This was written originally for a roleplay partner. In english, because i can't still feel comfortable writing explicit things on spanish xD. IT'S WEIRD. 
> 
> anyway my original plan was post it in twitlonger but it wouldn't let me. so here it is. in its whole self indulgent glory. SO IT'S ALSO A FIRST FIC IN ENGLISH.   
> also, unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. HAVE FUN.

The night in Masyaf is cold, but she does not feel it, with the warm body of her Assassin wrapped tightly around her. It’s also silent, just the breathing of them both, soft and exhausted after a quite harsh and loud session of lovemaking. Maria rubs her thighs together, where she can still feel the marks from Altaïr’s punishing fingers. There are angry red fingerprints in her wrists too, where he tried to keep her down for once, and in Altaïr’s throat where she squeezed with her hand at the same time she had his cock buried deep into her.

There are other sounds. The whisper of the wind just outside the window of the room, and another one, a deep, controlled, pained breath. As if someone was trying to keep a temper down in the dead silence of the night.

Maria pays attention in the middle of the silence. She can hear the soft steps walking away, no louder than a heartbeat. She has a theory about this, and theories must be tested. A wonderful experiment forms in her head.

 

***

 

It is not in her nature to be patient, to wait for the right moment. It’s something she had to learn. Something Robert de Sablé beat into her, with time and cruelty. He taught her to be cautious when her rage made her reckless; he taught her to think before to act.

Maria stalks his newfound prey, and she finds him predictable. Malik believes himself not of interest, and while he’s not sternly admonishing recruits or sharing venomous insults with older Assassins, he melts away in the shadowy rooms of the Archive or vanishes into the labyrinthic stairs leading to the many towers of the fortress.

One day, she finally decides to strike.

 

***

 

She’s wearing a long, loose white tunic, and her brown trousers are fit for riding. A belt keeps everything in their place. Her hair has grown too long, so every day she fixes it in a long braid to keep it out of the way. It swings widely with every step she takes. Fresh clothes for a warm day.

The sound of wood against wood is loud enough to follow. It leads her to a wide room, in one of the farthest towers.

Malik Al-Sayf is beating against a training dummy so hard, splinters fly around with each hit. It’s quite a view; his upper body is naked and slippery with sweat, and his face is an amazing hyper focused knot of rage and concentration. His dark trousers fit almost perfectly, leaving little of his musculature to the imagination. Maria’s steps are quiet and he doesn’t realize of her presence, allowing her to enjoy the spectacle for a couple of seconds. But the view is not the only thing that brought her here.

Maria picks one of the training sticks in the room; the little sound she makes is enough for him to notice, and the man acts in consequence. He does a full circle, and his wooden stick hits her own. Instinct keeps him going, and he counterattacks hard enough to make her take two steps back. Maria recovers quickly, and advances the same ground she just lost, marking a punishing rhythm. They trade blows for minutes; it’s more about speed than strength. Both of her arms would rip his weapon from his hand if he tried to resist with pure force, and he knows it. Their breathing becomes faster, until one particularly vicious hit separates them both.

“I see you are still training, Malik. Think you still got something to prove?” He doesn’t do missions anymore, he does not train with the others, and he avoids to be seen. Yet his footwork and the way he wields the training stick tells her a lot about how he spends his leisure time.

“Why, Maria, did you lose your way or you just couldn’t help but to follow me? If you got bored, I’m sorry. We’re not used to entertain ladies in this fortress.” They circle each other with slow steps; Maria with a predatory smile, Malik with a frown so deep and a contempt so true, it’s a surprise she’s not set in fire.

“I thought we should get to know each other more deeply.”

“You want to socialize with me? This is not a European court and I’m not your clown, Maria. Just stay the fuck out of my way.”

“See? That right here is our problem. I’m here to stay; we’re of no use if we just keep fighting like alley cats.”

The smile that Malik draws on his face has nothing of kindness and a lot of teeth. Here, where no one can see them, here, where no one can hear them. Here he can and will say exactly what he thinks. Maria is counting with that.

“You say you’re here to stay, but I don’t think so. I think you’ll be gone before the year ends. This is no place for you, Englishwoman.”

“It has been quite welcoming, though. I do feel at home.” His hands grab more tightly the wooden stick. “Altaïr has worked to make it easier, more comfortable. I think I like it.”

“I suppose _the Mentor_ needs some kind of downtime after all. Keeping his distraction close, comfortable, happy, all that. But you shouldn’t confuse that with something that it’s not. You shouldn’t forget your place.”

It’s a blur, a surprise hit, and she barely evades it. It will always be pleasant to watch a master in his craft, and these Assassins know their fighting. The way the movements flow, a whip of silence and movement. He’s keeping up, with one hand, a wooden stick and this very subtle, almost smug and completely poisonous anger.

It’s time to stop playing fair.

The educated sword fighting they’ve been engaging on turns into something faster and nastier all suddenly. Her goal is to take the weapon from him, and she manages it with a bit of luck and a punch that carries most of her strength; thing is, she also loses her weapon in the process. No matter; training and instinct are enough to defend her. A kick to the ribs, a hit to the chest, the way she learned with the English soldiers and mercenaries from all around the world. Her hand wraps around his wrist, twisting it fast and hard. Malik swallows a scream of pain, and his wood stick falls to the stone floor with a thump. Think quick, act quicker, and she grabs his whole arm, painfully bending it; using it as leverage she pushes him towards the wall.

“Is it too much to ask you to shut the fuck up, Malik? Is it too much to ask for you, a chance to prove myself?” His face hits the stone hard. She keeps him pinned with her own body, her still clothed body to his naked torso.

“What brought you to the door of my bedroom the other night? Curiosity? Do you really want to know if I’m up for the place of the Mentor’s concubine? Is it that. Or something else? Maybe you just want to test my abilities yourself.” The other hand, the one that is not keeping his one hand in place, it slips to his back, sliding all the way up to the neck and to the black hair, drenched in sweat. Maria takes a good grip of his hair; this action tears a strange sound from the man’s throat. It makes her smile.

“I see. You know, I had the suspicion…” She rolls her hips against his, and pulls the fistful of hair down and hard. Malik can’t help but moan, his face tortured like the statue of a saint in a church. “You’re just aching for someone to order you around, but _someone_ is too busy being careful with your little feelings, isn’t he? Tiptoeing around your wounded ego, like it’s going to break, like you’re going to break. But you’re made of sterner stuff than that, aren’t you? You are not going to break.” His jaw clenches, stubbornly trying to resist. Not a word escapes from his tight lips, but the tale told by his eyes is a very different one.

Oh, Lord. Men and their rules. So lost, so predictable, so tangled up with the chains of law and the temptations of liberty.

“I can tell you like it.” His body tenses. A pretty, even magnificent body, if she must be sincere. Lean like a racehorse, and his heart is starting to beat like he’s one, adrenaline pumping in. He grits his teeth, and makes an attempt to break free. He fails.

“Get off me, you annoying cunt.” Malik’s voice is now low, but not as sharp. His protests are becoming half-hearted…

“I have been wondering, Dai Al-Sayf, if there’s something else inside you that is not such venom, such unjustified hate.” He’s twisting like a fish under her grip, but she’s prepared for this. Maria kicks his ankles to make him fall, pushes until he’s flat on the floor, face down. From her pocket she fishes out a long leather strap, and with a practiced old expertise she ties his one hand to the metal ring conveniently attached to the lowest part of the post.

“See, you’re not the first to insinuate that my relationship with Robert was something more carnal than an apprentice and her teacher. This is of course, a lie.” Her hands, now free from the need to keep him still, made short work with his pants, getting him completely naked. It’s not an easy task, but she’s practiced at this. “He never touched me. But he did let me watch. Sometimes, he would even let me help.”

“I will kill you, you infidel! Templar trash-“

“Shut up already.” The little ball of fabric gets inside Malik’s mouth with a couple of forceful shoves. The screams won’t reach any ears, but they’re grinding her nerves, and this is a moment to focus. He will enjoy it too, even if his pride won’t let me accept it. She kneels over his legs, keeping him trapped. Now she can let herself enjoy the prey; the shapely form of his back, his buttocks. Her right hand slides all the way down from the shoulder, feeling the tense muscles, to the buttocks. One of her fingers traces the cleft of his ass, sending a shiver across his body.

His cock is quickly getting hard, standing up and proud. It’s a nice view; not as thick as she likes them, but long enough to have some fun with it. “You’re liking it! Hahaha. I knew it, I knew it since the first time I met you. Now, I know we can get some fun if only you let me work a bit here.”

It’s not rare to find such men in the army, living among the warriors. Some turn their masochistic urges into a loving recklessness into the fight, some into guilt trips that poison their thoughts. It’s easy to see in which category Malik falls. The rot of bitterness coming from this denying of the pleasure, this denying of the flesh.

Maria pushes his legs out of the way, kneeling in between, and she’s rewarded with a full view of the goods. The skin is warm where she can touch, her hands touching and sliding on his tights, the little asshole, already twitching for attention. With the pad of her thumb she touches it, circling it lightly. A little vial of oil is pulled form her pocket (her experiment is working perfectly; so far, so good), and quickly she coats her thing fingers with it. The oil warms with the friction and her thumb slides in. Malik’s hips jump, his moan drowned by the makeshift gag. Maria gives a little shake with her finger and pulls it out, substituting it with her index.

“You’re so soft in here. So hot and ready.” The ring of muscle is finally giving, and quite easily she slides another finger in. He moans, his whole chest vibrating with it. He still won’t look at her, with his eyes stubbornly fixated in the roof above them. But his pupils are wide and his cheeks red; his body is tense, refusing to give in and at the same time welcoming it. Maria crooks her fingers, and drags her fingernails on the warm walls; his eyes go white. The cloth inside his mouth is getting dark with the saliva. She hasn’t touched his dick yet, but the head of his cock is glistening with precum, heavy, full of blood. He still keeps trying to get away, to push her away. But she know better than to listen someone who evidently doesn’t listen himself.

She has three fingers inside. “It feels so loose here, so sloppy. I bet I could get my whole hand inside.” Maria twists her hand just a tiny bit, just a little, and Malik whines. “Now that’d be something. You would like that, wouldn’t you? I can tell. Alas. There’s no time.” She can feel him clenching around her slender fingers, the ring of muscle impossibly hot against her hand. Easily enough she finds the bundle of nerves of his prostate, and she pushes, hard. “Just relax, Malik. Maybe I should be using one of my husband’s cowls. Make it easier for you to imagine that I’m him.” In and out, in and out, and seconds go like water. Maria can feel her own face hot, breathing harder. She can’t help but to rub her tights together, almost unconsciously. Aching for some contact herself.

The treatment is working. The man’s moaning makes his whole chest vibrate. More precum flowing. He’s not even watching her anymore, his gaze is lost somewhere else, not here, not with here. Maybe withdrawn somewhere inside himself. She slaps him to wake him from it, hard, and the hit echoes in the whole room. She does it again, because she likes the look of his red cheeks.

“You’ll come when I let you.” She doesn’t even have keep him still. Malik is a puddle of hormones, and when his eyes connect with hers, they’re big, glazed. Wet.

When her hand slides out she can see him gaping a bit, all red and sore. A deep gasp, and she can’t tell if it’s because of the action, or because of her words. Anyway, his whole body shivers and glistens with sweat. It’s a beautiful sight. He’s naked but she’s still wholly clothed, and her shirt sticks to her skin.

It looks almost painful, he’s so hard. And let no one say she’s without mercy; Maria grabs his dick with one hand and shoves three fingers up his asshole at the same time. She starts masturbating him at a very quick pace, and when her fingers find again the bundle of nerves of his prostate, she pushes hard. His eyes close for a moment, his body convulses as if hit by lighting.

And Malik’s hot release comes out in thick, long spurts, drawing white streaks on his stomach.

“Hahaha. You’re such a whore, Dai Al-Sayf.” Maria stands up, and makes quick work of her belt and pants. She keeps the shirt though. “Now, time for you to be courteous and repay the favor. Let’s see if that mouth of yours is worth for something else than talking shit.” She pulls and the rag that gagged Malik came out with a wet sound. He coughed up one, two times, his voice raspy. But before he can say anything, she swings a leg over him, and sits on his face.

“Isn’t it marvelous? Malik Al-Sayf finally shuts the fuck up. With a mouthful of pussy.” To be completely fair, the man puts his tongue to work. Enthusiastically. It takes a lot of self-control to keep talking, pleasure shutting up from her cunt. Once again she picks a fistful of his raven black hair, pulling up. The vibrations of his moaning do wonders. At some point, she even gets a hint of teeth. He’s burying his face in her, and it’s amazing. As the climax gets near, she grinds her hips down.

“Maybe next time I’ll bring my husband with me. We’ll reward your good loyalty until you’re a mess. He’ll fuck you into the floor the way you’re obviously craving. Maybe I’ll fuck you while he tries this enthusiastic and slutty mouth of yours. Or maybe I’ll just fuck you both silly.” The image makes her dizzy, and she comes all over his face.

It takes her a couple of seconds to recover from it and stand up. His face is completely wet with her fluids, and his eyes are hard to interpret. Maria flashes him a smile while she quickly pulls up her pants again. From his normal clothes, at the other side of the room, she picks a knife. With a practiced movement, she throws it, and it lands just next to his face.

“I don’t think a skilled Assassin like you needs something else to get free. See Malik? We can get along, if only you could loosen up a little...”

Maria walks out, leaving him in the floor.


End file.
